


Skinny Jeans

by Fancy Lads Snacks (Filthy_Bunny)



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Modern AU, No Smut, OOC nonsense, One Shot, Romance, Roommates, Straight best friend, some sexual references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 05:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthy_Bunny/pseuds/Fancy%20Lads%20Snacks
Summary: What's a guy to do when he has a serious crush on his straight best friend and roommate? Well, avoid alcohol for one. On a night out, Danse's loose lips threaten to sink (friend)ships.Light and fluffy romance AU that bears no resemblance whatsoever to canon.





	Skinny Jeans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tess1978](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tess1978/gifts).



> Dedicated to the small but dedicated following of this pairing! In particular Militem, Syrenpan and most of all Tess who kicked my ass to write this in the first place. Thank you so much for dragging me out of my writer's block! <3

****“Are you watching _Narcos_ without me?”

Danse looked up to see Arthur, his room-mate, standing in the doorway laden with brightly-coloured bags and looking indignant.

“Calm down, it’s just season one,” Danse replied. Their neighbour, Piper, had her feet propped in his lap, and he nudged her out of the way so he could reach for the remote. “Piper’s never seen it.”

“Hi, Arthur,” Piper said sunnily. She sat up and rested her feet on the coffee table instead. “My god, what happened to you?”

“Alison took me shopping,” Arthur replied with the gravity of a soldier back from the war. He set the bags down on the coffee table and regarded them with uncertainty.

Piper went straight to them like a foraging bird.

“Ooh, show me,” she said, already elbows-deep in the first bag.

Arthur looked at Danse and winced. “She convinced me to buy _skinny jeans_ ,” he said. “I tried to tell her I’m not a skinny jeans kind of guy, but she can be alarmingly persuasive.”

Danse’s eyebrows pitched up at the mention of skinny jeans, though not out of sympathy, as Arthur would surely interpret it.

“Interesting,” he replied.

Arthur sighed and shrugged out of his jacket. He sank into his usual chair.

Piper had already pulled out a pair of running shoes, and now she unfolded a t-shirt and held it up. “Check this out,” she cackled, turning it for Danse to see. It was a plain white tee with a v-neck cut dangerously low. “Alison likes a little cleavage, I see.”

Danse laughed nervously.

“That cost forty-five dollars,” Arthur groaned. “How can less fabric cost more? Why did I let this happen?”

“Because you’re a nice boyfriend,” Piper told him.

“It could be worse,” Danse said. “She could have made you shave your beard.”

“Never,” Arthur swore, running a protective hand over his jaw.

“So what’s this in aid of, anyway?” Danse asked him. “Special occasion? Or is she just tired of counting the holes in your shirts?”

His friend sighed. “A little of both. We’re out tonight to celebrate her promotion. And she thinks I needed better casual clothes. She says I dress like either a banker or a roadie, nothing in between.”

Danse considered this. Arthur was always turned out impeccably for work in a suit and tie, but in his down time he relied on faded jeans, flannel and the same band t-shirts he’d been wearing for years.

“I… guess she has a point.”

“Well there’s clearly only one solution,” Piper announced. “Try them on and we’ll give you an unbiased opinion. Right, Danse?” She winked at him.

 _I hate you_ , Danse replied using only his eyes.

“I’m sure he’s had enough of changing rooms for one day,” he said, and looked back at Arthur. “But. Uh, if you want. We can.”

Arthur eyed the shopping bags blackly. He nodded. “I suppose. Then if they’re terrible, you have to tell me. And promise to back me up when she tries to get me to wear them.”

“Agreed,” Piper said. She grinned. “And we’ll try our hardest not to laugh.”

Danse waited until Arthur had collected his purchases and retreated sullenly to his bedroom before turning to glare at Piper.

“Why are you trying to kill me?” he whispered. “It’s hard enough sharing an apartment with him as it is.”

“Who said this is about you? Maybe _I_ wanna see that ass.”

Danse scowled. “You’re a lesbian.”

“Only ninety-five per cent lesbian. I keep a little five on hold for situations like this.” She smiled wickedly. “Come on, it’d be rude to live next door to you two and not appreciate how hot you both are.”

“Wow, thank you for making this even more awkward.”

Piper slapped his thigh and got up. “I’m getting more coffee. You want some?”

“No. And don’t be shy, Piper, please help yourself to the contents of our home.”

“Any time,” she chirped, already halfway to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway. “Oh, and by the way. I’m fairly certain my sister is writing a romance novel about the two of you.”

She vanished in time to avoid Danse’s horrified reaction. Her sister was twelve years old.

“Remind me why I keep letting you into my apartment?”

It seemed to take forever for Arthur to emerge from his room again, and when he did he shuffled back to the living room in his socked feet as though going to meet his doom.

“Give it to me straight,” he said.

Danse was speechless. The dark blue jeans could have been designed as a romantic ode to Arthur’s thighs, the way they clung so lovingly. He’d put on the low-cut shirt, too, and while not as snug as the pants, it made no mystery of the broad, gorgeous body underneath. The liberal display of hair-covered pectorals had Danse fighting the urge to adjust his own pants.

“Uh,” he said.

Arthur looked dismayed. “That bad?”

Piper returned from the kitchen and stopped short. “ _Damn,_ boy, you look great!” She made a spinning motion with her forefinger. “Turn around. Show me the goods.”

Arthur made a weak groan of protest, but did as she asked. Danse had to bite down on his lip as the most perfect ass he’d ever seen came into view, squeezed into a denim second skin. The tag on the jeans swung against one tight, round buttock.

Arthur had a body dreams were made of, and it was a miracle that he wasn’t more arrogant about it. He certainly put enough effort into its maintenance, dedicating himself to long hours and the gym and tracking his muscle growth and nutrition with expert precision. But he did not use his physique as a lure for sexual partners. His motivation to work out was something more serious and personal, as many things were with Arthur, involving only his relationship with himself.

Danse had some of that drive too, although he couldn’t deny that he was happy for men to appreciate the fruits of his labours. Arthur, however, seemed to resent it when women showed an interest in only his looks. If anything it made him even more attractive: the hot guy who doesn’t care how hot he is.

Arthur twisted, looking down at himself. He lifted the shirt a little and revealed the waistband of the jeans, which just barely made it past the curve of his splendid behind. Danse caught a glimpse of the twin dimples at the base of his spine. He wondered what it would be like to kiss them. How Arthur’s ass would feel in his hands as he squeezed it. Two big, firm handfuls, fleshy yet muscular—

“I need a belt,” Arthur grumbled. “I feel half naked.”

Danse cleared his throat and pulled a throw pillow into his lap.

Piper remained composed. “I don’t care, you look hot. You are definitely wearing this tonight.”

“People will think I’m a hipster,” Arthur complained.

She shook her head. “No, they’ll think you’re an Instagram model.”

“That’s even worse!”

“Skinny jeans today, gym selfies and swimwear endorsements tomorrow.”

“I have _some_ integrity,” Arthur insisted. He turned to face Danse. “Seriously, man. Be honest with me.”

 _I think_ _my_ _spank bank_ _just got restocked_ _,_ Danse thought morosely.

“She’s right. You look... really good.”

Arthur was taken aback. “Are you sure?”

Danse nodded slowly. He dragged his gaze from Arthur’s thighs to his face. “Absolutely.”

“Because I still have the receipts. Well, Alison has the receipts. But I am my own man. She’s not the boss of me.”

“Well she should be, because she has way better style than you,” Piper said. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Plenty of guys wear skinny jeans.” She gestured to Danse. “He has a pair.”

Arthur stared at his friend. “You do?”

Danse frowned at Piper. “Do I?” He squinted at the wall, thinking. He took greater care in his appearance than Arthur when it came to nights out, but he usually recycled the same few garments that he knew flattered him the best. But now she mentioned it he did remember buying some tighter jeans, back when he was dating his last boyfriend. He’d probably only worn them twice.

“That’s right, I do,” he said. “I forgot all about them. Huh. They’re not quite as skinny as _those_ , though.”

He chuckled at Arthur’s offended reaction.

“Where are you going, anyway?” Piper asked.

“I don’t know yet. We’re getting dinner near her place, then heading downtown later for drinks.” Arthur looked at Danse. “You want to come?”

“Me? Isn’t it a date?”

“No, a bunch of Alison’s friends will be there too. I told you, she’s celebrating.”

“I don’t know...”

“Come on. Don’t leave me outnumbered. How about you, Pipes?”

“I can’t, I work tonight,” Piper lamented, but then her eyes lit up. “Wait, you should come to my bar!”

Piper was a writer, but she was far too extroverted to survive working from home all the time; not to mention the pay was unsteady at best. She supplemented her income and her sanity with a part-time job in the city’s gay neighbourhood.

“Will you get us free drinks?” Arthur asked.

She snorted. “Yes, because I would very much like to get fired. I _wi_ _ll_ buy Alison a drink, though, since she’s the one who got the promotion. But hey, just stick that ass out and I’m sure you’ll have plenty of freebies coming your way.”

Arthur just sighed at her before turning to Danse once more. “What do you say? A night in the village would be fun. We haven’t done that in forever.”

“I go to the village all the time.”

“But not with your _best friend,_ ” Arthur replied, with just a hint of a pout to his lips. Asshole. “Come on. It’s been too long since we went out.”

Danse realised it was true. They hung out at home and in the gym, but it was often the kind of humdrum, semi-distracted company that came with cohabiting. And Arthur’s schedule was busier than ever before. They hadn’t been out drinking together in months.

“Fine, I’ll come.”

“You have to wear your skinny jeans though, if I’m wearing these.”

“What? No! Why do I have to get roped into this?”

Arthur fixed him with his steeliest blue gaze. “Solidarity, Danse.”

“I don’t even know where they are. They’re probably languishing at the bottom of my laundry pile.”

Arthur frowned. “So spray them with some Axe. Who cares?”

Danse gave Piper a _See-what-I-have-to-put-up-with_ look. She grimaced.

“What’s this solidarity worth to you?”

“I’ll buy you a beer.”

Danse shook his head.

“Two beers?”

Danse reached for the remote.

“Two beers and feeling warmed by the knowledge that you’re a wonderful friend who would never let _his_ friend suffer alone.”

Danse laughed. “I’ll see if I can dig ’em out.”

-

He kept his promise and went looking for his own skinny jeans, which he eventually found shoved to the back of a drawer. Thankfully they were clean. They didn’t look half bad, either, he decided after checking himself in the mirror at length. He should wear them more often. He didn’t have Arthur’s spectacular curves, but he was in good shape, and his ass got him sufficient attention. He paired them with a black muscle shirt and messed with his hair for ten minutes before grabbing his leather jacket and heading out.

It was pouring with rain, so he caught a cab into the city and made a dash for the bar. It was already packed with revellers, being the first Saturday after pay day, and he had to wander for a few minutes before he found Arthur and Alison’s entourage.

Alison bounded over to greet him, stretching up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He hugged her back and congratulated her on her promotion.

Danse liked Alison, very much in fact. She was funny and clever. She treated Arthur well and was great company for him. Her overall niceness only made Danse feel worse, not just about the torch he was carrying for Arthur, but for how unfair it would be when he and Alison inevitably broke up.

Because they would. The thought didn’t give Danse any pleasure. Arthur’s relationships never lasted long. He dated great girls, and seemed to think the world of them, and there was rarely anything exactly _wrong_. But after a few months the girlfriend Danse had begrudgingly warmed to and come to enjoy having around wouldn’t be around as much, and eventually she wouldn’t be around at all. Arthur never said a lot about it other than _It’s complicated_. If pressed, he would usually explain that it had been a mutual decision, but Danse didn’t know if that was true or Arthur’s way of fobbing him off.

Still, as he watched Alison at Arthur’s side later that evening, Danse wondered if maybe this time he’d be proven wrong. Her friends were all dancing, leaving the couple briefly alone. Alison held Arthur’s hand and pressed in close to talk excitedly to him over the music, and something she said made his face break into a bright smile. He slid an arm around her and kissed her forehead. Alison leaned into him happily. They looked so content, a little island of calm at the edge of the noisy, pulsing dance floor. Yes, maybe this time it wouldn’t be complicated.

It put Danse in a self-pitying mood, which only made him angry at himself, so he slunk off to say hi to Piper. She was working behind the bar but it was so busy she barely had chance to do more than grin and wave at him. He walked another circuit of the floor and was relieved to run into his friend Preston, there with his boyfriend and a few others. They all headed up to the roof terrace so the smokers in the party could indulge their habit. It kept Danse happily distracted for a while. Eventually Preston announced they were moving on to a bigger club nearby, but Danse said he’d hang back and wait for Arthur and the others.

He lingered on the rooftop, enjoying the relative quiet. The air after the rainstorm was pleasantly cool and fragrant. He had nothing to drink, but he was already fairly buzzed. Arthur had bought him the beers he’d promised—with a sage nod of thanks for joining him in his skinny-jeaned misery—and he’d had a couple more since. He went to the edge of the roof terrace to watch the world below go by. After a few minutes he heard someone call his name and he turned.

“ _There_ you are,” Arthur said, strolling towards him with a beer in one hand and a tall glass filled to the brim with crushed ice and layers of brightly-coloured booze in the other. “I was starting to think you’d ditched us.”

He stopped and offered the cocktail to Danse. “You want this? I forgot what it’s called, but Alison’s friend Kim certainly seems to like it. She must have knocked back a half dozen of the damn things.”

“You already paid me off,” Danse told him, but he took the drink anyway. He sniffed it cautiously. “Why so generous?”

“I’m not,” Arthur replied. He arched his eyebrows. “But one of my admirers is.”

Danse laughed. “Piper was right, then?”

Arthur shrugged his big shoulders in bemusement. He leaned closer to Danse and told him, “A guy in the bathroom just called me _Daddy_.” He grinned, teeth flashing in the midst of his dark beard.

Danse laughed and took a sip of his drink through the plastic straw. It was fruity and strong.

“You’re not old enough to be a Daddy,” he replied.

“Yeah, tell that to my parents,” Arthur joked.

“You’re kidding. They’re actually serious about that?”

“Well, it’s more just dropping hints, but they’re getting more and more regular. It’s only my mom, though. And my grandparents. My dad is too concerned with how I perform at work to care about grandkids.”

Danse frowned. Arthur worked for his father, and he worked hard. He did everything Maxson Sr. asked of him and more, and still found time to work out religiously, play sports, and date.

“Dude, you’re twenty-five,” he said. “You’re supposed to be enjoying your life.”

Arthur nodded emphatically. “You can tell them that, too.”

“So are you?”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“No, I mean, are you enjoying your life?”

Arthur took in the view from the roof. “Yeah, I am.” He looked back at Danse and smiled again. “Especially right at this moment.”

“Then that’s how it should be.”

Arthur nodded. He raised his bottle and clinked it against Danse’s glass.

They made comfortable small talk for a while, and leaned against the railings as they sipped their drinks and watched people wander the streets of the gay village. The pavements, still wet with the evening’s rain, shimmered in the light of rainbow neon. Music seeped from everywhere. From bars, passing cars and rumbling softly under Danse’s feet from the bar beneath. Laughter and the staccato of high heels on concrete mingled into the soundtrack. The night was cool but Danse felt warm.

“I should head inside,” Arthur said at last, though he made no move to go. “Before Alison thinks I’ve run off with the guy who bought me that drink.”

Danse nodded. “It was good, by the way. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And thanks for coming tonight. I’m really glad you did.”

“Yeah, so am I.”

Arthur put his hand on the back of Danse’s neck and pulled him close to bump their foreheads together. It was a brotherly hug, and pure affection flowed between them in that moment. Danse smiled back at him, glowing at the proximity. He raised his hand and patted Arthur’s bearded face.

Later he would analyse those few seconds to the point of madness, asking himself what propelled him to do something so reckless.

What led him to tilt Arthur’s face upward, lean in, and kiss him on his beautiful mouth.

For a short moment everything in the world was perfect.

Then Danse’s common sense caught up with him, lagging a couple of seconds behind his heart. Usually it marched ahead to keep things in order but the booze had made it sluggish. He jerked back. Arthur’s arm fell from his shoulder.

Arthur looked stunned. “Fuck,” he said.

“Fuck,” Danse gasped, as horror seeped into his bones. “I’m so sorry. _Shit_.”

“Uh...” Arthur glanced around, checking if anyone had seen them.

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry...”

“No, it’s okay.”

“It’s not. Fuck. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He turned and took a few steps away, for Arthur’s sake more than his own. He dragged his hands through his hair and took a few long, deep breaths. When he looked back, Arthur was still standing in the same spot. His face was in shadow.

“Look, I have to go back inside,” he said at last.

“I’m drunk. I’m sorry.”

“Danse… don’t. Don’t worry about it.” Arthur rubbed his face. He looked very tired all of a sudden. “I’m—I should go inside. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Danse jerked his head in a nod that Arthur didn’t see. He watched his friend walk stiffly back to the door with the horrible sensation that he had just destroyed something they both cherished.

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” he called after him, but Arthur didn’t turn.

-

Danse fled the bar after that. He didn’t even stop at the bathroom, afraid he might run into Arthur. He did collide with one of Alison’s girlfriends as he was leaving, so he mumbled a hasty apology for leaving without telling the others goodbye. She only half heard, and seemed to be under the impression that he’d hooked up. She high-fived him and reminded him to wrap it before he tapped it. Danse didn’t bother to correct her. He just wanted to get home.

Back in the silence of their apartment he felt even worse. He peeled off his clothes, stumbling over a couple of times getting the damn jeans off, and slumped onto his bed. He tossed and turned for an hour, then two, agonising over his mistake and all the things he stood to lose because of it.

Ultimately, once he’d wrung out his nerves like a wet rag, he was forced to conclude that it was not lust or a complicated crush that had caused him to kiss Arthur. He couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol. Any of those things would be a problem he could fix and move on. But it wasn’t. It was love that had overflowed in him tonight, standing on the rooftop and gazing into Arthur’s eyes up close. Big, stupid, romantic, very much non-platonic _love_.

He lay on his back in the dark and stared blindly at the ceiling, trapped in a limbo state between wired and exhausted, drunk and sober. He was in love with Arthur. This wasn’t something he could sweep under the rug of their friendship. This was… rug-destroying. The rug was on fire.

Sleep had long since evaded him, and he had to pee anyway, so he got up. It was still night but he made coffee and sat on the couch in his t-shirt and ratty sweats, looking like the personification of a hangover. He put on the TV. Everything on Netflix reminded him that he had either watched it with Arthur, or planned to. He powered up the Xbox instead and button-smashed his way though a fighting game for approximately eight minutes until a devastating KO left him feeling even more worthless and miserable than before.

He picked up his phone. There was no notification of an unread SMS, but he opened his message app in dim hope of a miracle. Arthur’s name was at the top of the list. It usually was. They’d last messaged each other a few hours earlier when Danse was on his way to the bar. There had been nothing since. He considered sending another apology, thumb hovering over the keyboard display.

Instead, he scrolled dismally through their old texts. Most were utterly mundane. Reminders to pick up TP or laundry detergent; arrangements to meet at the gym. One from Arthur checking in on him when he’d been off work with a migraine. Another from Danse asking how Arthur’s big presentation had gone, and Arthur’s excited replies. A couple of photos Arthur had sent him from a concert. Ordinary things that spoke of the comfort and affection they’d always shared. All the things Danse had potentially thrown away in one foolish moment.

He exited and found Piper’s number instead. He’d heard her in the hallway a while ago getting in from her shift, and she didn’t usually sleep until the sun came up. He thumbed his bleary way through a message.

_Are y_ _ou still up?_

No more than ten seconds passed before his phone buzzed with her reply.

_yep. U ok?_

Danse stared at his phone for a while, weary brain trying to formulate an adequate response. He was not OK. He was KO’d. He needed someone to talk to.

_I did something stupid tonight._

He could almost hear her ears prick up through the walls.

_gimme 5 mins, be right over._

She was at his door in three, dressed in pyjama pants, fuzzy socks and the chunky, wine-coloured cardigan she always wore when she was writing. She clambered into Arthur’s favourite chair and sat cross-legged watching Danse.

“You look terrible,” she said. “What happened?”

Danse put his head in his hands and sighed.

“Can you promise not to share this with anyone?”

Piper looked disappointed. “Does that mean I have to stop the voice recorder in my pocket?”

“The what?”

She rolled her eyes upward. “I’m _kidding_. Of course I won’t tell anyone. I _can_ keep secrets. I just don’t like to.”

Danse settled back into the couch and told her about the kiss on the rooftop. Arthur’s shocked response and his own failed apology. His fears for what would be left of their friendship now. Danse could have cost himself the apartment, too, since he couldn’t afford it on his own.

He didn’t use the L-word. He wasn’t ready to admit that out loud yet. But Piper was no fool.

“I didn’t realise how much he meant to you,” she said.

Danse stared wretchedly at the ceiling. “Neither did I.”

“Listen. Arthur is your best friend. He’s also the least homophobic straight guy I know, so my suspicion is that he’ll come around. You just need to back off until he does. And if he can’t, then as much as it will hurt, maybe it’ll be better for you in the long run. You’ll have a better chance at moving on if he isn’t around you all the time.”

Danse nodded. Both options seemed impossible. Living around Arthur with the burden of this unrequited love, or living without him. It felt like standing on a diving board above a bottomless void. Even so, he was grateful Piper had been around to lend an ear.

“You should write an advice column,” he told her.

“I do,” she replied, getting up. “Two, actually. One for teens, and another for weird sex problems.” She scrunched up her nose. “Don’t ask.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Piper patted his arm. “Look, I have a deadline in the afternoon, so I gotta go. But shout me if you need anything, okay? Are you gonna be all right?”

“Of course,” he said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

“I love being disturbed,” she replied. “Trust me, I would much rather stay and talk to you than go back to writing ten things no one knows about quinoa.”

“I don’t even know one thing about quinoa.”

“Then clearly you’re my target audience.”

She bent and kissed him on the head. He gave her hand a squeeze.

“Thanks, Pipes.”

“Any time.”

Danse sat and resumed his silent vigil of the ceiling. There was a long strand of cobweb dangling from the light fitting. It had been there for a while; he’d noticed it days ago. After a few minutes of gazing uselessly he was struck by a sudden flash of irritation. He got up, found a cloth, and swiped the damn thing down.

He decided to ride out the energy as far as it would take him. It was better than moping. He washed the dishes and wiped down the worktops. He swiffered the living room floor, then the bathroom and hallway. He put on a load of laundry. On the way back from dumping it into the dryer, he paused by the door to Arthur’s room. It was open a crack. He pushed it wider and lingered at the threshold for a minute.

Arthur’s bed was unmade and the clothes he’d worn earlier that day were strewn across it. It would be so easy to take a few steps inside, lean down and smell his pillows. Lose himself in Arthur’s scent while he still had the chance. Maybe even take an item of clothing as a memento.

He shook his head, disgusted at himself. It was no good. Arthur was off limits and always would be. Heart aching, Danse closed the door.

He was exhausted now the fervour to clean had left him, and he longed for sleep. First he wanted to shower. It was almost dawn by the time he dried off and brushed his teeth. He pulled on his sweats and went into the kitchen for a glass of water.

The windows above the sink offered a fine view over the city skyline. The sky was now murky grey with a hint of peach glowing under the clouds at the horizon. He normally loved this time of day; the liminal space between night and morning, where anything seemed possible. Today it only hurt.

“Danse.”

He almost dropped his tumbler in shock as he spun around. Arthur stood in the doorway to the living room, still dressed in his clothes from the night before. He looked crumpled and tired.

“Holy shit,” Danse breathed. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Sorry. I got back while you were in the bathroom.” Arthur couldn’t seem to meet Danse’s eye for more than a second at a time. “Are you alone?”

“Of course.”

“Oh. Alison’s sister said you left the bar with someone.”

Danse shook his head. “She was mistaken.”

He turned back to the sink and drained his glass, then ran the faucet to rinse it off. He didn’t know what to say. Arthur never came home this early after staying at Alison’s. Danse hadn’t expected to see him until evening, by which time Danse would have slept and hopefully regained a little composure. Or, even better, disappeared to the gym so they could avoid this uncomfortable reunion altogether.

Arthur broke the silence.

“Look… I’m sorry I ran off last night without talking to you.”

“Arthur, it’s fine. I can hardly blame you.” He reluctantly faced him again. “How come you’re back so soon?”

Arthur’s gaze shifted briefly to Danse’s face, then his bare chest, then back to the tiled floor. “I was hoping we could talk about it now.”

Danse’s heart sank even lower. He was so tired. He didn’t think he could keep it together enough to talk about the kiss and what it meant.

“I was about to go to bed,” he mumbled.

“Please, Danse.”

The pain in Arthur’s eyes pulled at Danse’s heart, breaking it a little more. He couldn’t deny him if he tried.

“Sure.”

He followed his friend into the living room, grateful for the gloom. Arthur sat in his armchair while Danse took his preferred spot at the end of the couch. It was a minute before Arthur spoke.

“I need to ask you something. And I want you to be completely honest with me. Don’t worry about my reaction, just please tell me the truth.”

Danse nodded.

Arthur slowly looked him in the eye.

“Are you in love with me?”

Danse swallowed. He wanted to look away, but he didn’t. He felt so vulnerable in his sleep-deprived and half-dressed state, he was sure that even if he lied, Arthur would see through flesh and bone and into his heart.

“Yes.”

Arthur exhaled unsteadily and looked away. He nodded once. A moment passed. “How long?”

Danse looked down into his lap. How long had they known each other? Five, six years? There had always been an attraction, but it was hard to pinpoint when he had truly fallen for Arthur. Particularly because he hadn’t even recognised it until tonight. Now he knew, it was hard to remember a time when he hadn’t loved him.

“Years,” he replied.

In his peripheral vision, Arthur rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Danse said.

“Stop apologising.” He was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat. “I think I knew there was something there for a while,” he said softly. “And I thought that by ignoring it I could keep it separate from our friendship. I could just keep living my life the same way I always had, pretending it wasn’t there. But I can’t.”

Danse screwed his eyes closed. They were burning.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“No, stop it. Listen to me. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have made you pretend all that time.”

Danse’s nose was getting blocked as he struggled to fight back tears. He wanted to be alone so he could just let them fall, but he also didn’t want Arthur to go. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d ever see him again.

“I broke up with Alison tonight.”

Danse opened his eyes and stared. “What?”

Arthur looked like he might cry, too. “We went back to her place, after the bar. And she knew something was wrong. I was distracted. Anyway, she wouldn’t let it go. So in the end I told her. About what happened on the roof.”

“I’m s—”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry again. Just— _Listen_ to me. I told her about it, and she looked at me, and I thought she was going to tell me I should move out, or stop being friends with you. But she didn’t. She looked at me really hard, and she just... I guess she knows me really well, because she figured it out before I did.”

Danse was lost. “Figured what out?”

Arthur leaned forward, staring down at his hands. Danse saw that they were shaking.

“Do you know why I broke up with all my exes?”

“No,” Danse said. “I really don’t.”

“Neither did I,” Arthur replied. “I certainly liked them all. A couple of them I liked a whole lot. We had fun, and everything was fine; great, even. But then… After a while they’d start talking about getting a place, about moving in together. Which is fine. That’s what couples do, isn’t it? I should have been happy. But I would realise that I wasn’t ready to do it.” He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “And it took me until now to see it, but the reason I couldn’t do it is that I didn’t want to leave you.”

Danse watched him, not even breathing.

“And—” His throat was dry, so he cleared it. “Is that what Alison figured out?”

Arthur nodded. “We talked for hours. And she cried, because… she loves me, and I hurt her, even though I never intended to. But she was so amazing. And we talked some more, and then _I_ started crying, and we both cried… After I left I went down to the river and walked by myself for a while. To get it clear in my head, before I came back here. To be sure. And she was right. About everything. And I’m sorry, I know I’m rambling, but this is really hard.”

He wasn’t the only one struggling. His words were coming too fast for Danse to comprehend. Arthur was normally clear and succinct, but emotion had jumbled his speech.

“Arthur,” Danse said. “What are you telling me?”

His friend looked up at him then, with so much spilling over in his blue eyes that Danse’s breath caught in his throat.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

A heartbeat passed, and then another. Danse simply stared. His lips moved, trying for words, but they slipped from his grasp. Finally he managed a strangled, “What?”

Even in the dim light and his own blurred vision, Danse was sure there were tears in Arthur’s eyes too. Arthur laughed roughly and wiped his eyes. An uncertain smile made its way to his lips.

“I’m in love with you,” he said. Though he spoke the words shyly, this time they were more certain.

A beam of hope lit like a beacon inside Danse’s chest but he was too stunned to trust it. He waited for the penny to drop, for the words _I’m in love with you_ to click and rearrange themselves into something that actually made sense. Which they currently did not, because Arthur was straight.

“I don’t—” he began, then shook his head. Everything he wanted to say was idiotic. _How? Why? I don’t get it! Are you sure you mean me?_

“But I’m a man,” he stammered at last.

Arthur laughed again, and Danse cringed, but then he started to laugh, too. A little of the tension ebbed away.

“Well at least we’re both terrible at this,” Arthur said. “Yes, Danse, you are a man. And so am I. And… I’m in love with you.”

Danse stared at Arthur, seeing relief wash over his handsome features. While he had not yet completely eliminated the possibility that he was dreaming, this really did seem to be happening. Arthur loved him back.

He got to his feet and reached out his hand. Arthur took it and stood, still shaking a little with laughter and nerves. He brushed Danse’s face with his fingertips as Danse’s hands settled on his waist, and before Danse could tell him how unbelievable all of this was, Arthur kissed him.

The rush of feelings Danse had experienced during their fleeting kiss earlier was nothing compared to this. Their desire was mutual, with no crashing regret to follow in its wake. The love swelled in Danse’s chest, so big and bright that it threatened to burst him open. He wanted to tighten his arms around Arthur and pull him closer, mould their bodies together and devour him, but he held back. The last thing he needed was to get carried away for a second time in one night. And besides, he didn’t need anything more than this. Just the feel of Arthur’s lips on his and the warm, solid feel of his waist under Danse’s fingertips was enough. More than enough; it was perfect.

Arthur’s pupils were blown wide when he came up for air.

“It’s so different,” he murmured. “Kissing you.”

Danse smiled. “I guess I’m hairier than what you’re used to.”

“And taller.” Arthur grinned and ducked his head, embarrassed. “No, it’s not that. Not just because you’re a guy. I’ve... never been so nervous about kissing someone before.”

Danse touched Arthur’s face. His beard was softer than he’d expected. “You don’t need to be nervous.”

“I know. But it never mattered so much until now.”

It made Danse’s chest glow from within. He dipped his head to nip at Arthur’s neck.

“You smell so good,” he said, nuzzling the short stubble on Arthur’s throat.

Arthur made a helpless little sound, barely a whimper, that made Danse dig his fingers tighter into his sides.

“Sit with me,” Danse said.

Without letting Arthur go, Danse stepped backward until he hit the couch. He pulled Arthur down beside him and for a little while they just looked at each other as they never had until tonight. Danse watched Arthur’s stormy blue eyes as they scanned his face, taking him in as though discovering him for the first time. In a way he was. Danse drank in the sight of Arthur in return, elated at finally being able to stare to his heart’s content.

He lost all sense of time as they sat there, kissing and talking in hushed voices, getting progressively closer and more entwined. Arthur’s thigh was propped over his now, his foot rubbing lazily against Danse’s calf. It felt so natural. So easy. Still, this happiness hadn’t come without cost.

“I feel pretty terrible for Alison,” he admitted.

“Yeah, me too,” Arthur replied. “I hated hurting her.”

“I’m sorry. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

Arthur gave him an exasperated look. “You do realise we’re only together right now because you kissed me?”

“I know. But I should have… I don’t know. Done something differently.”

“Listen. I would have ended up breaking it off one way or another. It’s obvious now that I wasn’t right for her. At least this way she got to understand why. She’ll be okay.”

The blinds were drawn, but morning light seeped through from the kitchen.

Arthur looked at their hands, linked together in his lap.

“So what do we do now?”

“As in right this second, or more generally?”

“Either.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. Have you slept?”

Danse shook his head. “Not a wink.”

“Then we sleep.”

They looked at each other for a moment, the same question hovering in both minds.

Arthur spoke first. “Should we—Together?”

“In the same bed?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean… I would love to. If you’re OK with it.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes. But for the record, I do actually mean _sleep_. I’m—I don’t know if I’m ready for anything else yet.”

“Of course.” Danse squeezed his hand. “And I don’t want to rush this either. I really mean that. We have time for everything. And I’d rather wait a year than ruin this.”

He kissed Arthur’s lips softly before they disentangled and got up. Arthur stretched and yawned.

“I’m gonna get changed,” he said. “I’ll be back out in a sec.”

Danse took advantage of Arthur’s absence to hurry to his own room and straighten his bedding. He fluffed the pillows and checked under them for old tissues and other detritus. A brief scan of his sheets revealed nothing too embarrassing. He was smoothing the comforter down when he heard a dull thump from Arthur’s room, followed by cursing.

He went to the door and called across the hall. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” came Arthur’s muffled reply.

A minute later his door opened and he stood there looking flustered, shirtless now but still wearing his skinny jeans. Danse’s gaze raked over his naked chest and down towards the unzipped fly of his pants. He swallowed hard.

“So this is awkward,” Arthur said. “But I could, uh, use some help getting these off.”

“You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Danse grumbled, stepping aside to let Arthur into his room.

“I can get them down halfway,” Arthur complained. “I just can’t get them over my calves.”

Danse directed him towards the bed. He crouched down and helped Arthur to wriggle the waistband of his jeans past his hips, revealing tight white briefs underneath. Arthur had to hold onto the Calvin Klein band at the top to keep them from sliding right off with his pants. For Danse, it was a devilish exercise in self-control.

“Sit,” he ordered.

Arthur parked his ass on the edge of the bed, and Danse knelt to continue freeing his thighs. And god, what magnificent thighs they were. Thick and curved with muscle. Hairy, like his chest. Of course he knew that already. He’d watched dry-mouthed on many an occasion as Arthur worked his legs out at the gym. Seen him splayed out on the couch in shorts playing video games a thousand times. But kneeling between those thighs while a near-naked Arthur watched him, lower lip pinched between his teeth, was something else.

Danse flashed him an exasperated grin. “Are you sure you didn’t just buy these to fuck with me?”

“No!” Arthur protested. “Honestly. I thought they were awful. But then… when I saw you in yours...”

Danse worked one leg past Arthur’s knee. “Do go on.”

“Well, I… guess I realised what the whole big deal was. Because you really looked amazing tonight.”

“Flatterer.”

Both knees were free now. Rather than shove the jeans down any further, Danse lifted one of Arthur’s bare feet, tugged the cuff over his heel, and pulled. He repeated it on the other leg.

“Free at last,” Arthur groaned. “I’m never wearing them again.”

Danse tossed the jeans aside, and sat back on his heels to take in the sight before him.

“Fuck, Arthur.” He looked up, shaking his head. “You are so hot.”

Arthur smiled. “It’s… pretty fucking hot seeing you down there, too.”

Danse groaned and closed his eyes. It would be so very easy from this position to reach up, peel Arthur’s underwear off and explore him thoroughly with lips and hands. His cock throbbed in his boxers at the image. Just imagining Arthur’s sounds of pleasure was intoxicating. _Fuck_. He would do all of the things he’d pictured in his fantasies, but not today. Only when Arthur was ready. And honestly, the anticipation felt wonderful in its own way. The two of them would take things as slowly as they needed, and Danse would appreciate every single second they shared. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Arthur’s knee and got to his feet.

“Okay, Maxson. Let’s get some sleep before you get me _really_ riled up.”

Arthur laughed and nodded. He scooted up the bed and pulled back the covers.

Danse kicked off his sweats and climbed in beside Arthur in just his underwear. Arthur reached an arm around Danse’s waist, hooked a leg around his and shuffled closer to kiss him. Contentment glowed in Danse’s chest.

“I love you,” he said for the first time.

Arthur smiled back in the near dark. “I love you too.”

“You know, you could have opened with that earlier,” Danse teased. “I thought you were going to tell me you were moving out.”

Arthur buried his face in Danse’s throat and kissed his Adam’s apple. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was terrified.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You always thought I was straight. So did I. I was afraid you wouldn’t take me seriously. Or you wouldn’t want me because I’ve only been with women.”

“I’ll always take you seriously,” Danse told him. “I’ll always want you.”

They lay in blissful stillness for a little while. Arthur’s stomach growled, breaking the silence.

“When we get up, I’m getting us takeout,” he said.

“Mmm. Good idea.” Danse breathed in the smell of Arthur’s hair. “Fuck, I can’t believe tomorrow is Monday.”

Arthur grunted. “Let’s call in sick,” he said.

“That’s an even better idea.” Danse replied. “Maybe I could take you on our first date.”

Arthur hugged him tighter. “Where?”

“I don’t know. I’ll surprise you.”

Arthur’s laugh was a sleepy hum against his skin.

“You’re good at that.”


End file.
